The Sounds Of The Motorway

Gliding lift doors and stale walls,
Bored female monotone telling her the doors
are closing -

In on her.

Doors opening and
for a moment,
she breathes the stale air.

She walks in,
she plays the game
she uses,
she wishes he abuses
just a little more

to the sounds of the motorway.

Sweat and blind imagination
she imagines him
over her.
His distant body
over her
as she writhes
and watches the clock.

She yearns for the smell of almond oil...
To feel heady
To feel...

Something.
Something soothing.
Something sensual.

Just something,
to the sounds of the motorway.

©prettyintelligentprincess